Curtained eyes not fully open
The veil of night still closed
Rain drop spatter, still hoping
No sunshine will rise I suppose

It is too early yet to be awake
But the soft drops they calm
This sleeping world I gladly take
A new day held in his palm

There is no better place to be
Sitting quietly in the dark
A rainy Sunday waiting to see
On this new day to embark

Stoic Poetry


Near Dawn

When all around has turned to grey,
Past the sunrise to spend at play.
I but a little boy, and went my way,
Eyes of amber still enclosed in day.

Black secrets buried within my dream,
Into the glad day and the freckled night.
Beneath the sun in gold tinted beam,
Always the one who sought the light.

Stoic Poetry


Awareness, arising unbidden
Fragile gossamer mist, born of dew
Night is fading, last dream hidden
Secrets veiled from waking view

Sleep filled eyes, spread the canvas
Upon which the world is painted
Each grace filled brush stroke dances
Upon the virgin day, as yet untainted

Stoic Poetry

Autumn Dawn

Clouds of lace full of grace
Drift in the Autumns sky
Chilling air drifting there
Watching as they pass by

Seasons pass as nothing lasts
As is the way of things
No questions here left to ask
Observing the birds that sing

Sitting here in the early chill
Peaceful quiet and thought
Creeping smiles upon this face
In joy this morning has brought

Stoic Poetry

New Day

At the edge of night 
The darkened sky weeps
Tears at the coming light
In joy for the glorious sight

It won’t be very long
before the earth shall wake
With morning tears of dew
A promise made to the sky of blue

Stoic Poetry


The crack of dawn is my favourite time
The  day in front and the night behind
The world is asleep and and I might find
Some poetic words from within my mind

As the Sun comes through the trees
Some simple phrases that might please
And in the morning fresh and bright
I hope to get these words just right

Stoic Poetry

Small Village (Kleines Dorf)

Original photo by S.Allen

Frosty dawn bites hard on skin
Glistening trees shred the light
My favourite pen feels so heavy
Ink thick ,slow, as I try to write

This small Austrian town is quiet
Sleeping; in a world I am bound
Fresh words form on empty pages 
Noisy poems inked without sound

Stoic Poetry

Early Morning

Natures toil in thunder rolls
across laden skies of somber dawn
teardrop rain streaked window panes
on this dreary winters morn

Eyes closed and nowhere to be
sounds fall as words upon the page
the eye of the storm on this winters morn
all given to natures soft rage

Stoic Poetry


Darkness torn in the breaking dawn
weeping down the furrowed shadows
the face of winters curtain drawn
dispelling the dreams that arose 

Dark raven fly, chasing the night
forgotten dreams may fade to grey
carry these secrets beyond the light
to be remembered another day

Stoic Poetry